Murphy Rides The Airplane

Back in Canada and enjoying the dubious benefits of snow, sub-zero weather and nearly zero percent humidity. Thank goodness for long johns and a good in-car heater.

My trip to Canada began quite enjoyably with a chance encounter with a former student from the Bilingual school I taught in several years ago. We had a good opportunity to converse and catch up on her life. She was headed to Miami to check out a college in Florida. Colleges in the States have adapted to students from other education systems by providing a year of prep studies which allows them to catch up to the rest but contributes, in a way, towards their degrees. Good business opportunity that is not being missed.

Ten minutes from being safely on my next flight to Chicago, a sniffer dog found something in a bag from Columbia somewhere underneath the terminal I was in. Not being able to differentiate between drugs and explosives, the handler pressed the panic button. As we were lining up to board our plane, security personnel swept through our terminal herding all and sundry ahead of them. Within minutes, several thousand people were milling about in the corridor between terminals. No one wanted to exit and face the screening hassle again. One hour later people began heading back towards terminal J. Checking the board, we found that our flight had been moved to Terminal G and was leaving in fifteen minutes. Out we went, down the long hall to the next inspection point, undressed, inspected and dressed, then a final dash to the gate. No plane there and only a few of the original numbers. One of the passengers then checked his black berry to find that we were scheduled back in Terminal J. Smarter this time, we checked with airport personnel. True to Murphy, the people at the United Airline counter were not present. A few phone calls and many walkie talkie messages later, it was confirmed … Terminal J. Back out … back in and we were ready to board.

We arrived in Chicago too late for connecting flights. A boy going to Australia for opening College Exams, a man headed to Turkey to open a hotel and a couple rushing home to be with a dying father were some of those tangled in Murphy’s web. As luck would have it, we arrived at the United desk at 9:00 p.m. Shift change. So, with a burgeoning line up of mildly disgruntled passengers, all but one of the clerks packed up her stuff, donned her winter coat and headed home.

Next afternoon, the seven of us who were connecting for Edmonton, arrived home. Of course, Murphy had not finished. Our luggage remained in Chicago. Thirty hours later my suitcases arrived at my house in Vegreville thanks to a man who makes his living fixing airline luggage mistakes.

I had packed several bottles of Pineapple wine from one of the projects I am working with. The limit at customs is only two bottles so I had to go to the man to pay duty charges. Fortunately, he could find no category to charge them under so, happily, he stamped paid on my form and let me through. Murphy didn’t win all the battles.

TTYL
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